A/N: I had this chapter ready to post days ago but then my laptop decided to play up and well, three frustrating days later it's finally back up and running, yeah!
I apologize in advance for the extended pain and angst, I'm afraid this chapter has plenty of it, and some guilt to boot, as we slowly edge towards the last stretch of this fic.
But it will all be alright in the end (right now I'm probably the one most in need of being reminded of that)
They were in a fuckton of trouble, to put it mildly. Dean had never seen his father so furious. Even that time when he found his magazines paled in comparison. Maybe he should take solace in the fact that apparently defiance and attempted theft, as really that was what he had tried to do, weighed even higher on his old man's scale than having a varied sexuality. He was absolutely positive that if it had not been for Jody and Bobby, he would be nursing more than just a bruised cheek.
But damn, they hadn't exactly left him with many options, adamantly refusing to just let things rest, or at the very least hand him back his cellphone or- you know, give his version of events the benefit of the doubt. And he had to try, just had to do something. This inability of changing the situation, steer it to somewhat safer waters, was gnawing away at him with ever increasing intensity. Dean hardly even noticed the passing of time, he was too busy, initially with sulking and then trying to come up with a plan to fix this, or bar being able to do so, at least take the so-called evidence out of the equation.
Of course Sammy figured out something was up when Dean went from simmering, hardly contained anger to quietly brooding, and loyal brother that he was, refused to let him try anything by himself. after all, as he kept insisting, Cas was his friend too. After half a day of trying to convince him otherwise, Dean had to concede that he was being out-stubborn'ed by his little brother. Consequently, he roped Sammy in to act as lookout while he methodically combed through the house in search of his cell while Bobby and John had taken to clearing a path from the house to the main road in preparation for the Winchesters' leaving the next day, now that the snow had finally stopped falling.
In the end, after having gone from top to bottom, the only place left to check was Bobby's study, and it would make total sense to hide the thing in the one place neither of the boys were officially allowed in. Dean had to resort to his lock picking skills, courtesy of his stay at 'rehabilitation camp' (the irony would never not be funny to him) to open the locked drawer of the desk. The need to delete those texts urged him on as he fiddled with the paper clip inside the lock. But no sooner than he had the damn drawer open and rejoiced at the sight of his phone, Sammy came barging through the door, saying the two men were back.
And Dean would never blame his brother, after all he really didn't have any experience in the area of acting as lookout, but he must have been so obviously up to no good as he raced from his hiding place that John went after him, still in his outdoor attire and clearly paying the 'no shoes' rule no heed. He was on them before Dean could even get to the text messages. The following shouting match could probably be heard two states over and Dean got pushed into the edge of the bookshelf as his dad wrangled the cellphone out of his hands. Oh their father was furious, insubordination never sat well with him and Dean saw the split second of pure rage in his father's eyes before Bobby's voice reached him and he deflated, instead yelling at them to get out of his sight.
Now they were grounded, not that Dean minded, he had pretty much been in self-inflicted isolation for days, but he feared that in his attempt at improving the situation, he might have actually made it worse and he still was in no position to contact Cas nor has he gotten his friend out of the firing line. Almost worse still, on top of the worry and uncertainty, Dean could feel himself grow increasingly irritated and angry at the adults and their treatment of him. After years and years of being his own boss and being responsible for his little brother, suddenly he felt stripped bare, all agency taken from him, like he wasn't even able to be trusted on simple day to day matters. He felt like he was slowly being suffocated by their misplaced concern and care.
All he really wanted to do was to go home, although he had no idea what would lie in wait for him there, whether his dad would make good on his threats or if and when he could see Cas again. Two more days, then something would happen one way or another. Dean decided he might as well just go to bed, maybe he would wake up to a better world tomorrow.
#
"What?" Dean and Sammy exclaimed in unison, staring at their old man in utter shock where they stood in the hall, their duffels at their feet and about to put on their jackets. Dean was sure he must have misheard because his father's words just didn't make any sense. He had been fearful of the backlash from his little stunt, had had a millions and one different scenarios played out in his head, but this?
"You can't be serious!" He stuttered helplessly, as the words slowly sank in.
"Boys, I've had a lot of time to think about this, and this solution will be the best for everyone involved." John said tight-lipped, trying to reign in the temper he could already feel bubbling away under the surface. He'd been pretty certain his sons wouldn't receive his decision with open arms and had dragged out actually telling them until the very last moment, but couldn't they damn well see that for once he was actually trying to look out for them?
In hindsight, leaving them under the impression they would all be going back home as planned, going as far as to actually let them pack their bags had probably been a bad idea. But his sons' continued exasperating refusal to cooperate, or at least talk to him, had left John drained. Ultimately he just didn't have it in him to confront them last night as he had spent the better part of yesterday battling his own demons, trying to keep away his increasing urge to just drink his troubles away.
"No it's not. Our house- everything is there. It's our home!" Sammy protested. Dean was not even thinking about that. His mind was racing with thoughts of the possible implications of his father's decision, threaded through all of them was the constant notion of 'Cas', and what this might mean for them. If they didn't go back, when would he be able to see Cas again? Would he be allowed to see him at all? Dean hadn't forgotten his father's threats but he would have figured something out once they got back. But what if his dad saw this through? The last few days of not talking to his - what was Cas exactly, his boyfriend? - and the pressure of the uncertainty of what might happen to him and their relationship had been torture. His refusal to talk and indict Cas of what his father assumed to be the truth, seemed to have kept John from acting on his threats, for now. But Dean was well aware that even without his cooperation his dad could make life very miserable for Cas should he want to. That had been the crux, the big stumbling block for them all along, and now it threatened to overtake them, possibly destroy what they had. And if it would, Dean could only blame himself and his own stupidity. The sheer frustration of feeling so powerless in this situation was slowly but mercilessly choking him.
But right now, he needed to stay focused, Dean reminded himself, and took a labored breath, trying to steady himself and holding the need to just scream at bay. He needed to find a way to talk his dad out of this. "And our schools." Was the first thing he could think off. "You can't just make us change schools like that in the middle of the year." He said, trying for diplomacy, as he was sure yelling about Cas would not be conducive to changing his father's mind.
"Sammy is a bright kid, he will be fine wherever, and you already have attended school nearby, so you'd be just transferring back."
"But- you can't just leave your job. It was hard enough finding that one." Dean couldn't help the slight pitch to his voice, even as he continued to think of more reasons why this was a very bad idea, trying his hardest to stay on the side of logic.
"Bobby offered to take me on as an extra hand at the garage until I find something more permanent, and I will start looking for a job and a place for us to stay today."
Bobby and by association Jody being in on this hurt more than Dean would care to admit. He couldn't help feeling a stab of betrayal at the revelation, especially over Jody, who he had almost believed to be someone who would try not to judge him, or Cas, especially after her reaction to Dean's accidental admission. But apparently all her offers to listen, being all understanding about 'confused feelings', and her psycho-babble about this being a difficult situation had only been for show. Maybe she was trying to wheedle some incriminating details out of Dean, after all they could well not convict someone just for being in love. But of course, in the end they would all side with John, and clearly no-one seemed to ask what they wanted. It was literally him and Sammy against everyone, just like it used to be. In a way nothing had changed, well for a while it had been Sammy, him and Cas, Dean reminded himself wistfully. But the man was not here and everyone seemed to be hell-bent on keeping them apart.
"I'm not going to stay." Dean griped, voice shaking with suppressed rage, and his brother mumbled his agreement.
"Dean, why can't you see that this is for the best, I'm doing this for us, for you." John heaved a frustrated sigh. This damn well had not been an easy decision, giving up the house he used to share with Mary, the thought of it had torn open old wounds but also made him face some of them for the first time. His wife was gone and he had been on a downward spiral for way too long, not willing to face the present. So after mulling over the current circumstances with his friends, exploring possible avenues of actions open to him and the likely consequences of those, his mind was made up.
And as for Castiel Novak, he undoubtedly had been the deciding factor in this decision. More than once John held the phone clutched in his hand, ready to call the cops on his neighbor. Mostly because he wanted the man to have to pay regardless of whether what he had done would legally be regarded as abuse. Without a doubt Castiel had taken advantage of his boys in their vulnerable state in some form, as was evident from their erratic and shady behavior. His imagination tried to fill in the blanks, provided all too vivid scenarios of what this man might have gotten up to with his older son, and it made him feel sick. Moreso because John knew that in a way he only had himself to blame for the current mess, for not having been there for his kids, but that didn't stop him from putting blame firmly at Castiel's feet.
In the end it was his ingrained mistrust in the authorities that had stopped him from making that call. He had a few run-ins with the police during his drunk days, not even to mention the mess that was the investigation after Mary's accident, and the less than adequate way it was handled by all parties involved. No, John and authorities did not mix well. At its core was the fear of them poking their nose where it didn't belong, as no doubt they would want to know about their family background, and let's face it, he hadn't been exactly the father of he year. He just didn't have any hard proof to confirm his suspicions, to make this a quick and easy investigation, and to his immense frustration his boys kept hedging. John also knew that if he would go back without making that call, he was sure he would do something very stupid which might find him on the wrong side of the law. After confessing in Bobby, rather than seeking solace in the bottle, he decided on the best course of action being a new start. John realized that really it was time to move on, and letting go of the past in a literal sense could only be a good thing for all of them.
"I'm not staying and you can't make me!" Dean yelled defiantly, fists balled at his side.
"Dean, I'm your father and until you're eighteen I'm responsible for you. We will make a new life for ourselves here, forget-".
"We should have a say in this." Sammy piped in. He didn't much fancy staying here either. He loved Bobby and Jody, but back in Chicago was their house, their home.
"I'm leaving and I'm taking Sammy. We don't need you." Dean dug his heels in, taking some perverted pleasure at the way their father's face crumbled for a second at his words before his face turned thunderous.
"And then what? You just gonna get yourself a job? Find an apartment for you two to live in? You're sixteen years old Dean, wake up!"
"I'll find a way." And he meant it, he would get a job, two if he had to and figure the rest out along the way. He glared at John.
"Or- oh wait. You're just going to run back to Castiel, is that it? And what, let him have a go at Sammy too in exchange for a warm bed?" John could feel the last shards of his calm disintegrating at the continued insolence of his sons.
"Shut up, just-." Dean was beyond livid now. "When will you get it through your thick skull he's not a pervert!"
"Dean, it's not open for discussion! You will do as you're told or would you rather we all go back and let Mr. Novak face the consequences of whatever it was that he talked you into?" John's voice was gaining in volume. For whatever reason Dean still felt the need to protect that man, and John didn't want to do this, would prefer a clear break rather than dredging this up again, wanted nothing more than to forget that Castiel Novak ever existed. But if a well aimed threat was what it would take for Dean to fall in line, he would use it. Dean was too involved, too compromised to see the situation clearly. John could only hope that after a few weeks away from that man's corrupting influence, the teenager would start to understand that he was only looking out for him, and Sammy.
"That- you- " Dean stammered, his chest constricting as he gasped for breath. Suddenly with a blinding clarity he realized that he was pushed into a corner and defenseless. If he were to go back to Chicago and Cas, he would bring trouble for his friend in his wake, and if he wanted to keep Cas safe he had to yield to his father's demands. Dean started to pace like a trapped animal, because that was exactly what he was.
"You bastard. You-" He shouted at the top of his lungs, anger quickly turning into red hot rage.
"Watch it now, son!" John barked, taking a step towards Dean.
Sammy, not liking where this was going, memories of yelling and of Dean's bruised face coming back to him and making his body shake with fear, tried to get between them, shouting, "Stop it, just stop it", gangly arms and hands pressing at their respective chests with little success.
Jody and Bobby came running in from the kitchen, where they had been 'hiding', thinking it best for John to talk to his sons alone, but wanting to stay nearby in case of rising tempers, which they knew the Winchesters had in abundance.
"I'm not gonna, you can't make me-" Dean shrieked, body wound tight from trying to contain his rage.
"I told you, the decision's been made. Now stop." John stood his ground, glaring at his son, hoping it would be enough to make him fall back in line.
Dean recoiled at that particular tone in his father's voice. He had heard it many times before. The one that left no room for interpretation or negotiation. He had to shut up and do as he was told, and despite wanting to continue to scream and yell and lash out, he fell in line, shoulders back and arms behind his back. It was a well practiced response, a bodily reaction he seemed to have no control over and which had kept him from harm in the past, no matter how unwelcome it was now. He knew this was it as he desperately swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat, and he couldn't quite meet his father's eyes despite knowing that he should. His world collapsed in around him, his vision whiting out for a second, stomach churning. Dean could feel his eyes well up, from the sheer hopelessness he felt at this very second, a desperate choked up sound trying to escape but he swallowed it back.
Dean hated his father, hated them all in that moment. He had to get out of here fast before he would lose it and just hit someone, preferably his dad, not caring for the consequences. In a way he would prefer, welcome any physical pain to the emotional anguish, wanted to push his dad to that point. But Sammy was still between them and in that split second it took him to realize this, the urge to fight left him for good. He turned on his heels and hightailed it out of the room and not even bothering to put on his jacket which lay discarded next to him on the floor, ran out the front door.
The cold hit him full on, but instead of clearing his head, it made him even angrier. He hated winter, hated the cold, the way the snow pretended for it all to look so serene and pretty when really the whole world was just one ugly place, not allowing him to be happy for more than five minutes.
Standing out against the blinding white was the shiny black of the Impala, gleaming in the sunlight, cleared of snow, like it was just waiting to take them home. Their dad had spent most of yesterday afternoon digging her out and removing all the snow. It had all been for show, one charade to toy with him, and all Dean could see when he looked at the car was John. The one thing he so truly cared about, always treated with reverence even when he didn't care for much else than the next drink. Dean even hated the goddamn car right now and everything it stood for. If Dean couldn't have what he wanted then neither should his dad.
He spotted a crowbar halfway buried under the snow and grabbed it, the cold metal freezing his skin and sticking to it. Without a second thought and with a yell and a grunt he lifted it up and brought it down against the trunk, the reverberation going through his arms as iron hit metal. He repeated the action with more force, then again and again, grunts turning into screams. Tears were now flowing freely as he continued to pummel the car, leaving a gaping hole in its trunk, smashing the rear window next and still it was not enough. His muscles ached and despite the physical exertion his body started to shake from the cold, but he just carried on, tail-lights, windows, whatever he could reach, yelling, panting not even noticing the people standing on the porch. How Bobby had to physically restrain their dad, who was screaming at Dean to stop, telling him that Dean needed this to move on, or the way Sammy stared, pressed closed to Jody as his own tears fell at feeling so utterly helpless and just a little bit scared seeing Dean losing it like that.
#
They should have been back two days ago. The date was seared into Castiel's brain. Initially because it was the day he'd see Dean again (and quite likely the inevitable confrontation with Winchester senior) but now increasingly so because of the distinct absence of any sign of life next door.
New Year had come and gone without as much as a peep from any of the Winchesters. Not that he had held out much hope for Dean contacting him, still there had been that small flicker of anticipation. If anything, Dean proved resourceful and creative in the face of adversity. Maybe that was why this complete silence was unsettling in more than the obvious way. What was going on all the way over in Sioux Falls?
Gabriel had tried to reason with him that if Dean's father wanted him reported, this would most likely have happened already, and he would know by now as his whereabouts were not hard to track down. But that had only worried Castiel more about John's motives and whether he was planning on taking matters into his own hand or worse taking it out on Dean. He had seen what an enraged John could do. He near well had himself convinced that maybe confronting John first would be a way of clearing the air, just let the man beat him up and get it over with. Cas would take it, especially if it might take any pressure off of Dean. He had no idea what state Dean or Sammy were in, and it frustrated and angered him to be so utterly clueless. It was all but his brother and the less than favorable weather conditions that stopped him from finding his way over there. Plus, they would all be back in Chicago soon enough, and then, according to Gabriel, Castiel could do whatever he deemed necessary while 'for the love of God and everything holy' not getting himself into any more trouble.
But regardless of his brother's reassurances, when Castiel arrived home, he half expected to be arrested on the spot. But no one showed up questioning him and he wondered whether John was toying with him on purpose, letting him rot in his own hell of uncertainty. And he had to admit that it was working, there was nothing as punishing as a black hole of nothing overshadowing your every waking second.
He started to near obsess with checking on the house opposite, to see if there was any sign of the Winchesters' return. The longer this state of affairs lasted, the more Castiel just needed something to happen. He got to the point that he didn't even care anymore whether it would be good or bad, just something to put him out of his misery. In all the scenarios he had envisaged during long sleepless and angst-ridden nights, staring out of his window with increasing trepidation as first the hours, then the days ticked past without any sign of the Winchesters, had not been part of it.
But life around him didn't just stop. He knew that he had to get a grip, despite the crushing weight on his shoulders. He had lectures to prepare, bills to pay, a life to live, at least until something definite would happen. He couldn't stop functioning just because of 'if's' and 'maybe's'.
It was on the morning of the fourth day, the day school started up again, that Castiel's world stopped turning. He was about to head out to catch up on much needed grocery shopping when he saw the sign go up. 'No, no no, there must have been a mistake; they must have the wrong house', Castiel thought as he stared in disbelief before jumping into action. All plans of shopping forgotten, he jogged over to the too cheerful looking realtor lady to enquire.
Five minutes later he was sat at his kitchen table, visibly shaking, as the words still reverberated in his ears. "Yes, Mr. Winchester's place. Called us Saturday about the sale of his property. Charming man. Said something about a short notice job opportunity he just couldn't pass up that would require him to relocate. Apparently had to tell them yes there and then."
Castiel had just about managed to thank her for her time before he ran back into the house feeling sick. He stared at his hands for a long time; feeling lost like a big void had opened up and swallowed him whole. So this was John's solution, up and go. Force them apart. Castiel still had no idea how much Dean's father actually knew. He refused to believe that Dean would have willingly told the man about them, knowing what was at stake. Maybe the man had overheard one of their conversations and drawn his own conclusions.
He couldn't remember how long he sat there, feeling a numbness spread through him, infesting every cell in his body, before the coffee mug went flying, its cold contents splattering against the wall. The mug, broken on the floor, was a pretty accurate visual for the way his life had splintered into a million pieces.
He had prepared himself for a fight, for the worst case scenario, but this- he needed to do something or he would go out of his mind. He could already feel it clawing at the edge of his brain, the panic, the worry, the thoughts starting to race. He dug out his cellphone and against hope tried Dean's number again, but of course it went straight to voicemail. It was the same for Sammy's. In his desperation he tried Amelia next, knowing of her continued contact with the younger brother, asking if she had heard anything from Sammy over the holidays. She hadn't since a 'Merry Christmas' message that he sent her on Christmas Day, and when she enquired as to whether everything was ok, Castiel just excused himself and hung up, fully aware how unfair it was to leave her worried for the brothers. He would need to explain to her another time; no way could he focus on this right now.
A feeling of cold dread curled its way up his spine, making him shiver. He stared at his cell in his hand, a thought coming to him. Every bone in his body was telling him that this was most likely a very bad idea but there was literally no one else he could try to get some answers from and maybe it was time to face the situation head on. Eventually the need for answers and worry for the brothers won out over his own trepidation and hang-ups and with trembling fingers he scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he needed, pressing the call button.
On the third ring a gruff voice answered with a curt "Yes?"
"Hello Bobby", Castiel gulped around a lump in his throat.
"Castiel!" Bobby exclaimed with a coldness in his voice that he couldn't help but pick up on. It made his hands shake. "You know, I won't let you talk to Dean." Bobby stated, straight to the point knowing full well, or taking a well-educated guess as to the reason for his call.
"I understand." Castiel conceded, not wanting to anger the older man further. Talking to Dean really would have been too much to hope for. "I- I just need to know that they are ok." He said pleadingly after a few steadying breaths. He should be grateful Bobby didn't just hang up on him.
There was silence on the line for a few seconds, like Bobby was contemplating doing just that. Then a long exhale followed by, "They're fine - all things considered, but they won't be coming back to Chicago."
Despite already having worked that out for himself, hearing it straight from the horse's mouth had Castiel suck in a breath, it was like he was being slapped in the face. There was another beat of tense silence as Castiel tried to come up with something more to say. For a second he wondered whether he actually missed Bobby hanging up, then an exasperated sigh confirmed that he was still there.
"Damnit, Castiel!" The sudden outburst of the older man made him jump. Castiel again scrambled for something, anything to say but it was like he had been stunned into silence.
"I trusted you, I put them in your hands - how could you-" Bobby grunted down the line. He had been tempted to just disconnect the call but this might be the closest he would ever get to get some actual answers, being as Dean and Sammy still refused to say exactly what had transpired between them and this man. Part of Bobby stubbornly refused to believe that he could have been so wrong about Castiel, that he had been played by the brother's so called 'friend' for his own gain. But if he had been too trusting and stupid, the blame of what happened to the boys would fall to him, not John or anyone else, being as he had willingly left the brothers in the man's care. But damn, Dean and Sammy had seemed happy with Castiel, but what the hell did he know about the psychology of abuse and all that stuff- Zilch, that was why he had to trust other people in their judgment of the situation.
Bobby's words hurt, stung deep. But of course they were nothing Castiel hadn't accused himself off at one point or other. Lying to Bobby's face about the nature of his and Dean's feelings for one another had always been the hardest, felt so much like betrayal. Precisely because he knew Bobby trusted him and would not look kindly upon him having gotten involved with Dean as anything more than a brotherly friend, regardless of the fact that it clearly was something Dean wanted, and that for the most part Castiel had tried his hardest to adhere to the 'rules'. At least for his own sanity Castiel could take solace in the fact that he had never pushed Dean into anything, something the long talks with Gabriel had reaffirmed for him. He would not want to be associated with people who got involved with minors for kicks because that was never what it was. And right here might be his only chance to be heard.
"I do not know what it is you think that I have done, but I can promise you that I have never done either of them any wrong. I am not like that, I promise. I have never -."
"But- you're in love with Dean" Bobby cut in, more as a statement than a question.
"I-" The bluntness of the older man caught Castiel completely off guard, he grappled for words but none would come to him.
"I take you silence as confirmation." Bobby stated after almost being able to hear the other man think.
"I-" Castiel tried again. At least he suddenly had an idea what they might know, and was there much point denying his feelings?
"Look, not gonna sugar-coat it for you. This is all mightily messed up and I have a feelin' we'll never get the whole story- and I really don't understand how you can claim to be in love with a sixteen year old kid. You're a grown man for fuck's sake! But that aside, I don't wanna forget that you've looked out for them boys when no one else did, even though I can't help but to question your motives now."
"That- whatever you're implying was never my intention, I-"
"I heard ya the first time-" Bobby stopped Castiel mid-sentence. He took in a big gulp of air, considering his next words. "Without any hard evidence I won't condemn a man and ruin his life based on assumptions and a few text messages. Also I can't ignore the fact how them boys keep sticking up for you, and frankly, I don't know what to make of that. But John- he's got a lot to work through, he's got every right to feel angry and protective of his boys." Bobby let out a long suffering sigh. "At least he's finally well enough to care- and I can't vouch for him or his actions. So I think it'll be in everybody's best interest if this stops now, if everybody goes their separate ways, starts over." Bobby let out a long suffering sigh. "I don't think you're inherently a bad person, Castiel. Just- move on with your live, maybe go back to that nice man you had".
"I- Just-"
"Please, just don't try and contact Dean. If you do care for him like you say you do, let him go and start a new life here, with his peers. He is messed up six ways from Sunday at the moment, and he needs a clear break of whatever's going on with you. Damn it, did you really ever see Dean and you going anywhere, if there was anything to go somewhere in the first place, that is." Bobby let the question hang heavy between them.
Castiel startled at the question. Had he seen this go somewhere? Or was he so caught up in the moment that he stopped being rational, stopped looking at what would be best for everyone involved. He wanted to yell that 'yes, of course he and Dean were headed somewhere' but in the cold light of day, could they have? Thirteen years equated to a whole lifetime worth of different experiences. With the stress of the last week finally having caught up with him, wearing him out, he suddenly wasn't quite so sure anymore, still he wanted to believe.
"Maybe, I don't know." He replied after a long silence.
"Then let it rest. I take it this is goodb-"
"But they're ok?" Castiel asked again, like he didn't believe it the fist time.
"They will be." Bobby replied before he disconnected the call. He had no idea what just happened. Really, he should have just yelled at Castiel, but something in the other man's voice had sounded so sincere and almost broken. He without a doubt cared for the brothers, but maybe that was the problem, he cared too much for one of them. Bobby still didn't know Dean's version, whether he believed himself to be in love with Castiel as well, and whether that really was all there was to it, but Bobby had to agree with John on that at sixteen, Dean very well did not know what love might or should look like. He could have easily been led to believe that any feelings of friendship or whatever he might have felt for Castiel were something more. Keeping them apart would be for the best. Dean would forget and eventually move on and this all would be but a nasty memory.
Back in Chicago, Castiel could not get himself to move, refusing to believe in the finality of his relationship with Dean while at the same time knowing it to be true. No doubt Gabriel would tell him that he should be glad, that he got off 'easy' with just a few scrapes so to speak. And while his rational side wanted to agree, tried to tell him this was all for the best and that the last year and a half should just be forgotten, that he somehow had not been quite himself, he could not make himself do so. He had fallen in every way imaginable and most of all he had fallen in love with Dean, and no matter what people might have him believe, he knew what he felt for the teenager was real. He had fought against it for too long to now believe otherwise. Despite knowing it would be for the best, would be the logical approach to take, he did not want to move on, he wouldn't even know where to start, although as of right now, he had no idea where that left him at.